


Stay with Me

by Trixy_BuenaSuerte



Category: Bleach
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Aizen's Backstory, Arrancar, Arrancar Arc, Canon Timeline, Character Death Fix, Dimension Travel, Dysfunctional Family, Espada, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It, Grimmjow is a softie, Hueco Mundo, Las Noches, M/M, Original Character Actively Alters the Timeline, Reiatsu Bonding, Slash, Szayel is Insane, Time Travel, Ulquiorra has a heart, Zanpakutou, of sorts, slightly crackish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trixy_BuenaSuerte/pseuds/Trixy_BuenaSuerte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you know the story by heart and yet you can't stop yourself from falling for those on the death list, what do you do? </p><p>Change it. </p><p>Simple and easy. </p><p>But, after being thrown into a world that is not her own, can one girl change the fate of the ones she loves? </p><p>Rated for language (Grimmjow) violence (Nnoitra) and a twisted sense of humor (everyone, really). </p><p> </p><p>  <em> Set during the Arrancar Arc</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

**Prologue**

"No! Don't die," I find myself yelling as I run towards the person I love most in this world and the next. His face is set in disbelief as he stands a few paces away from us and he watches as his hand disappears in front of him. I'm with him on this one.

How can this be happening?

I thought I'd have more time. Hell, I thought I'd done everything right.

I guess I've failed again.

Ironic; had it been a couple of weeks ago, I would have laughed at the idea that I would ever beg someone not to leave me. I'd grown up alone and had raised myself while my father had looked for happiness in a bottle and Mother had run out the door without a second glance. And, after all, had I not claimed that the only person I needed in my world was Luz. Had I not promised that I'd be with her forever?

And look where I am now: dimensions away from her and my life.

"Please, please," I plead as I reach him and cling to the ruined remains of his top. It's in tatters and they all but dissolve in my hands as I grip them too hard in my desperation to keep him with me. He's powered down in an attempt to prolong what is starting to look the inevitable. I know my pleading is useless but as his time with me winds down, I can't stop mumbling pleas, and as sobs tumble from my lips, his hand comes up to wipe away my free-falling tears.

"It's okay," he whispers and I'm appalled by his words. In what realm was this okay? How can him dying in my arms ever be okay especially with my— _our_  adopted daughter sobbing not too far away in Grimmjow's arms? Sure, our time together had been short and his and hers even shorter but this is something that will never be okay. How will I ever be able to get the image of him dying out of my mind?

Much less hers?

I turn to the others, rage coursing through my body as I remember that they're still here. Why aren't they helping? They fucking owe me! If it hadn't been for me, they would have died. And even though I'd gone to hell and back for them they just stand and look on like my family isn't on the line. Like my daughter's father isn't two seconds from death.

"Please heal him. Reject fate! Please," I beg and the girl with the power to do just that. To make it so it never happened looks at us with tears in her eyes but she doesn't budge or summon her powers. The strawberry looks more broken than her and there's guilt written all over his face because he knows this is his fault and I will forever hold him accountable for doing this to me, to Nel, to all of us.

And Nelliel means more to him than anyone else here save Orihime and Ishida.

But it's as my eyes lock with the eye glass wearing teen at the edge of the group who looks like he couldn't care less that a family is about to be ended that I'm hit with the truth. They can't help. We are the enemy. And even though I had promised to help them in the war we will forever be the enemy because we are  _different_. We are different beings with different desires.

And the Shinigami hate different; they fear it.

Because different can be dangerous and dangerous is not acceptable. We never stood a fucking chance because I'm just a human girl who hangs around Arrancars and has managed to carve herself a family out of the shattered remains of Aizen once proud army. I'd helped them more than they will ever know but that will never change the fact that we aren't like them.

"Shh, it's okay," he shushes me but his words do nothing to ease my horror as I watch the hand that is busy wiping away my tears turn to dust faster than the first. I wrap my arms around him as best as I can and sob into his shoulder. This is it. This is where we part. In a few short days he'd become my whole world and during those days I managed to find us a beautiful daughter in the desert and now he is leaving us both.

And I don't think I can live without him.

" _Ulquiorra_!"

  
  



	2. Rough Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we meet the star of this story!

A sigh, quiet and longing, fills the air, mixing with the  _tick-tock_  of the clock and the  _clash_  of metal meeting metal. And when a grunt fills the air a whoop joins it, though a yelp follows not too long after and I roll my eyes.

Really now, what's with the premature celebration? You shouldn't be shouting victory until you have your opponent on the run, or on their knees, begging for mercy...

Too sadistic for you?

Alright, I'll tone it down.

Another sigh fills the air, but this time it's from pleasure as I stretch against the cream-colored cushions and my back cracks in various places, relieving pressure I hadn't even realized had been building. The irritating  _tick-tock_  still fills the air and I wonder how people can drown it out when every  _tick_  sounds like a gunshot and every  _tock_  like an explosion.

Seriously, I could use some advice on how to ignore it.

Why do we even have an Analog Clock in this day and age?

A yelp once again fills the air but this time it's followed by a whoop and I turn towards the television in time to see a brightly colored  _'K.O.'_ light the screen.

Bright, green eyes turn towards me not too long after and I quirk a brow as Luz, my best friend and roommate—of sorts—all but bounces of the walls in excitement. And I can't keep from smiling when she throws her arms in the air and her head back as she screams in joy ( _satisfaction, relief_ ), "I did it, Trixy. I unlocked him."

My other brow goes up to join the first and I nod my head in a show of amusement even though there's nothing amusing or surprising about it because it was inevitable that she would have unlocked him.

The only thing that could have been surprising about this at all would have been whether she would have done it quickly or if it would have taken her ages. Not that I would had blamed her if it had.

Not when you have to pass the whole game  _twice_  while playing as Hanataro- _fucking_ -Yamada. And let's not forget that Hanataro—though cute as a button—is next to completely fucking useless. His Zanpakuto heals everything it touches, for god's sake.

How are you supposed to defeat enemies when every time you strike, you heal them?

And really what kind of twisted ( _evil, sadistic)_  game programmers would make you fight  _Kenpachi_  twice when the only way you can deal any type of damage is by rolling around on the floor and knocking your opponent off their feet.

Of course playing as Hanataro wasn't the only challenged she'd faced. There had also been a multitude of other characters to unlock and battles to fight before she could get him. Then there were also the episodes and costumes and having to redo the story mode multiple times and really just a ridiculous amount of things to do.

I'm more amazed she didn't throw her hands up in frustration when she realized she'd have to beat the story mode again and then the arcade mode a few more times rather than the fact that she finally unlocked him.

And just what kind of twisted game am I talking about, you ask?

Why the answer to that is  _"Bleach: Shattered Blade",_ featuring  _Arturo Plateado_ , the love child of Grimmjow and Szayel. Seriously, take one long look at him and then tell me again that I'm bonkers.

I mean, we don't see what happens away from the cameras. Hell, for all we know Grimmjow and Szayel are shacking up while Nnoitra's recoding it—for personal use, of course.

But then again I really shouldn't be surprised that she put so much time and effort into unlocking this specific character because I know just why she went to hell (figuratively) and back for him. You see, Luz is—oddly enough—in love with him.

Awkward, right? I mean what kind of sane person falls in  _love_ with a fictional character?

Well, you'll be surprised to know that a lot of people actually do. And, honestly—coming from a person who's in the same boat—it's not bad. It really isn't, because falling in love with a fictional character doesn't mean you're crazy; it just means you were unlucky enough to find everything you'd ever want ( _need, desire_ ) in someone who doesn't exists.

It means that you laughed and cried, conquered and fell with them. That you followed them through their journey and then, suddenly, you realize, 'Hey, it's you…You're what makes me happy. What makes me smile and laugh and, dear Lord why can't you be real?' because somewhere along the way you fell in love.

And there's nothing more to it than that.

So, honestly, it's none of your business if we fall in love with people who don't exist. And if it bothers you then tough luck. As they say, to each their own.

So now that that's out of the way I'm sure you want to know just who Luz went through all this trouble for and if you look at the television you'll see. He stands with one hand in his pocket and the other curled into a claw with his jacket flowing majestically behind him revealing his chiseled—and badly scarred—chest.

I can't keep from grimacing in disgust as I look at him. Seriously, I don't see the attraction at all. I mean, he's rude, sexist, violent _, fucking volatile,_ and an all around unpleasant person. Yet Luz can't keep herself from drooling over him.

Sad thing is, the person—well Espada really—that caught my eye isn't that much different from him. Hell, he might just be worse because, while Luz's love might be volatile, mine is completely voided of all emotion and that allows him to do incredibly messed up things without remorse or guilt.

Like I said, same fucking boat.

The clattering of a plate being place on the coffee table pulls me from my thoughts and I look up in time to catch Luz's expectant gaze as she slides a plate of freshly baked cookies across the table towards me.

"Here, my new recipe," is all she says and I study the cookies a bit apprehensively. Now, don't get me wrong, Luz is the best baker I've had the pleasure of taste testing for but sometimes she gets these ideas that sound good in context but turn out to be utter disasters.

"Oh, just eat the damn things," she snaps when I do nothing but poke and prod at them. "They're a new recipe I whipped up for the bake sale at Mom's job tomorrow," she says as she picks up her controller and returns to her game. "They're Cream filled…"

It's all the encouragement I need and before I can think about it, I take a bite out of the ( _delicious, moist, soft)_  cookie. Moans are out my mouth before I can stop them and I devour the cookies without a second thought.

Luz shakes her head at my reaction but stays quiet as she starts her game again and begins the next round. And I watch silently as she plays because they're just something about the way she plays that can captivate anyone.

She's just so passionate and I can't pull my eyes away as I watch her duck, twirl, and swing. She's just so into it. And even though all those movements are completely unnecessary, I feel like I should get up and applaud because, god damn, that's amazing.

It's like a dance and I desperately wish she'd listened to me when I suggested she join the dance team. She has potential, she really does; but the thing about Luz is that she likes to do her own thing and make her own decision, so dance was out the window as soon as it left my mouth.

She's a good person though, if a little rough around the edges. She's one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet and she'll lend a helping hand wherever it's needed. But betray or hurt her once and you'll be wishing she'd just cut you out of her life. She holds grudges, holds them for longer than I've ever seen and I'm sure there's some hanging over our friendship.

Best friends or not.

Her next move sends her veering to the left though as she has to duck mid-twirl to avoid an attack—though, honestly all she had to do was press the little arrow on the left and  _tada~_ problem solved. Papers flutter to the floor as she crashes into the coffee table and it's only because of my quick reflexes that the cookies don't meet a similar fate.

"Shit," she curses as she pauses the game to tend to the mess but I wave her off and scoop the papers off the floor. She gives me a grateful smile and goes back to her game, and I would have gone back to watching her if the tattered and torn paper hadn't caught my attention.

_I'll send more as soon as I can._

-  _Dad_

It's a messy scrawl, obviously done in a hurry and I stare at the paper for long time, longer than I care to admit before crumpling it into a ball. One hundred fucking dollars. No more, no less. One hundred dollars is all I have to survive on until dear old daddy can send more money.

Now don't look at me like that, I'm not mooching off my father to pay my bills. Well, actually I am but only because I'm still a minor and it's not like I can go to school and work enough hours to support myself ever since father packed his bags and hit the road without so much as a 'goodbye' four years ago.

Four years and Mother hasn't been in the picture since before I can remember. Four years of uncertainty and wondering just where the hell he'd disappeared too. Four years of scrimping to pay board and food and anything and everything I need. Four years of working at whatever place would hire a kid. Four years of utter fucking hell and all Father can send is one hundred fucking dollars.

Of course he'd sent money before, but never enough. Every month I'd find myself going without. Without new clothes and make up, and sometimes without food. A phone? Fuck that, I'd rather eat tonight, thank you.

Standing from the couch, I make my way to the kitchen—paper still clutched in my hands—snatching up any dirty dishes I find on the way there. Once I reach the sink I have a rather large pile in my hands and I dump them in the sink carefully before moving towards the trash and tossing the paper away without a second thought.

Once upon a time I'd save these papers, hoarded them like gold and read them each night like they were holy. Once upon a time they held a promise: dreams and plans and a future. Once upon a time I'd wait each and every day by the mailbox but not now.

Not anymore.

Now they're just nothing more than ink on weathered paper covered in whiskey stains. A drunken—because there's no doubt that he was drunk while writing this— man's promise and that's something you'd be stupid to believe.

I'm on autopilot as I head back to the sink and wash the dishes because my brain's too busy digging through the pile of crap that was my childhood for that one diamond. That one moment it felt like everything was going to be alright to keep myself from self-destructing.

Sad to say there aren't many. How can there be when I was raised by an alcoholic?

Most of my memories are filled with curse words and the overbearing smell of alcohol. Still, I guess the fact that Father wasn't a drug addict as well had been a good thing. And he wasn't abusive either. Never saw him raise a hand even while piss-in-your-pants drunk. Not even when Grandpa—god rest his soul—would yell and belittle him.

No.

Father wasn't abusive and on his sober days—as few as they were—he was pleasant, kind, caring. Once upon a time father wasn't an alcoholic. He was the best father you could ask for, but once upon a time was a long time ago and now he's nothing more than the scum that ran out on his thirteen—at the time—year old daughter.

He sold the house, packed his bags, and walked out the door with nothing more than a letter left on the kitchen table telling me to pack mine and head out before the new owners arrived. Of course there had also been a long-winded explanation on just why he left along with a heartfelt apology and instructions to head over to my newly appointed guardian's house.

To say that the Guardian part had been surprising would have been an understatement. Both because it meant that my alcoholic father had dragged himself out of the bottle long enough to realize that such an arrangement would be necessary and because of just  _who_  he'd chosen.

Isabel, Isabel Graves.

The wicked witch of the west—of sorts. Before that day I'd only ever heard bad things about her and a few days after moving in I realized they were all true. She's cold, standoffish, and holds a tongue sharp enough to draw blood with the wit to match. And she's anything but polite; if a bland remark isn't leaving her lips then you better watch for that carefully disguised insult.

Half the time the target of her irritation doesn't notice they're being insulted. Not until someone sits them down and cautiously explains that what might have sounded like praise is actually nothing more than a sarcastic comment meant to offend.

Really, if I hadn't been feeling so lost ( _angry, confused, betrayed)_  I would have given him a round of applause. How he managed to pull it off I'll never know but I'm sure it took a hell of a lot of begging and trip down memory lane because—though it was before I was even born—Isabel was once my father's best friend.

 _'Attached at the hip,'_  Grandma—may her soul find peace—would say though she never told what drove them apart. No one did. It was just something you never brought up, and even though I didn't know why, I understood that asking about it was like an unwritten taboo.

"Aren't you finished yet?"

The voice is sharp and it cuts across the room like a whip, causing me to lose my grip on a plastic plate I'd been scrubbing. I wince as it clatters rather loudly against the tile floor and ignore the perfectly plucked brow raised in my direction as I bend to pick it up.

"And you ask why we don't use the fine china."

I don't have to look to know that Isabel towers over me in all her wicked glory because that voice, cool and dripping in venom—and just so  _soft_  that when you find out who owns it you get left stuck on stupid—can only belong to one person. Plus, you know, this  _is_  her house. I mean, I was  _just_  talking about having to move in with one of the nastiest—personality wise—people I've ever had the displeasure to meet.

"Sorry, you scared me," I say as I return to washing the dishes. "You just kind of have that effect on people, you know?"

I know I should be grateful for letting me move in with her, I really do. But I've had to put up with her attitude for four years now and I'm sure not even god himself would be able to be polite after having to deal with her shit for so long.

"Now sweetie, what have I told you about flattery?" she asks and I roll my eyes in exasperation. "It'll get you nowhere, darling," she says and I have to hold back a shiver when she drags her long manicured nails down my arm. "Now why don't you tell me how much that  _magnificent_  father of yours sent this time?"

"Oh you're going to love this," I say as I rinse off the last dish and wipe my wet hands on my jeans. Reaching into my pockets I pull out five crumpled twenties and wave them in front of her perfectly curved nose. "One hundred dollars, Bel. One hundred fucking dollars," I curse and throw the money onto the counter.

"You're lying," she says almost cautiously and when I shake my head sadly she picks up the money. After counting it quickly she shoves it into her pockets and heaves an exasperated sigh. "And the father of the year award goes to…," she mumbles angrily before turning back to me.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asks and I'm not sure if she's expecting an actual answer but I shrug my shoulders just in case. "Look, I'm not  _trying_  to be an out-right bitch but let's face it. I got my hands full with Luz and I don't make anywhere near enough money to support all three of us. And if push comes to shove, well, I'm going to pick my daughter over you any day."

I have nothing to say to that and I nod my head in agreement because I do agree. I can't fault her for putting her daughter over me and isn't that something?

Isabel Grave, the wicked witch of the west, is the mother of sweet little—literally—Luz.

_This could be why Luz has a tendency to hold grudges though._

"And let's face it. I'm being pushed here, Trixy, and the bills are piling up," she says and this time her soft voice doesn't feel out of place especially when she places a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "I'll talk to your father tonight. Maybe he can arrange something more… _permanent_."

She leaves after those last words and I lean against the counter and bury my head in my still damp hands. I don't blame her or hate her, I don't.

_I can't._

Because she's not doing it because she hates me or to get rid of me. She's doing it for Luz,  _her daughter._  So that she'll have enough money to pay the bills, buy food, and to just be able to keep a roof over Luz's head. That's a hell of a lot more than my mother ever did for me.

I don't know how long I stay like that and it's not until an elbow gently nudges my ribs that I'm pulled out of my thoughts.

"Mom says to clean up and go to bed," Luz says all wide-eyed and curious. I give her a tight smile as I pull away from the counter. "You did the dishes already so I guess I'll mop, sweep, and get the kitchen. And you get the living room, okay?"

"Sure," I mumble and scrabble to the living room before she can voice the questions I can see shining in her eyes. I'm not sure if she heard the conversation between Isabel and me but I'd rather keep her in the dark if she didn't.

It's not something she should have to worry about anyways. Whatever happens next is between father and me—and Isabel. There's nothing Luz can do and I don't want her tearing herself up over it; I'll be doing enough of that myself.

I mean, I might have been on my own for the past four years but not completely. I had a roof over my head and—most of the times—food in my belly. Whether it was bought with my hard-earned money or 'donated' by a merciful Isabel doesn't matter.

I had a place to sleep and food to eat but I'm not sure what to do anymore because I just might not have a roof over my head anymore.

I do have a job, of course. A part-time job down at the Mom and Pop Restaurant across from school, Classic American, but it's not enough to survive. After taxes I'm lucky to make seven hundred dollars a month and you just can't live off that. Not when you have to pay board and food and bills and other necessities.

And to all of you thinking,  _'Don't worry, I'm sure your father will take care of it"_  you obviously haven't been paying attention to a word I've said.

My Father's a fucken alcoholic and last I heard of him he was somewhere in Africa doing god only knows what. Things really aren't looking good right now and—other than my father—I have no one to honestly blame and that makes it worse.

I clean the living room quickly and, after I've finished, I race up stairs to take a, hopefully, calming shower before calling it a night. I can still hear Luz cleaning downstairs and, if I strain my hearing, I can hear Isabel quietly tapping away on the computer in her home office so I know I won't be disturbed as I walk into the restroom, clean clothes in hand, and proceed to take a long, piping hot shower.

Don't you just love showers? Especially long ones where you can just sit there and think? Where you can take a load off and relax? I do and as the hot water runs down my back and washes way knots of stress and exhaustion, I find it hard to keep up right.

I want nothing more than to just lay down and sleep surrounded by the warmth and comfort but I don't. Instead I scrub away the sweat and grit of a hard day's work before rinsing off and shutting the water. As soon as the water's off the comfort's gone and instead I feel stuffy as the steam hangs heavy in the air.

I towel off the excess water quickly and change into my clean clothes, wanting nothing more to leave the humid room and finally just lay down and sleep and forget all my worries if only for a few hours. It won't be better when I wake and it won't be better until I find a new place—or until father stops being an ass and finally comes home.

No, it won't be better but I can forget, just for bit, just for now, just to rest.

The walk down the hall and to my room, my dark green room—' _The forest, Trixy. The trees and the leaves and the grass, they're beautiful, baby girl. You'll see, you'll love camping'—_ seems to take forever and, as the exhaustion begins to really kick in, the halls seems longer than I remember.

My vision gets hazier with every step and my mind muddled but when I finally,  _finally,_  reach my room—the one at the end of the hall—I rush into the room and dive towards the bed without a thought. The bed and sheets feel like clouds against my weary muscles and I melt into them instantly.

I'm too tired ( _drained, exhausted, troubled_ ) to do anything but fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow and maybe that's why I forgot that my sheets weren't black, that my room isn't white, and that my bed felt like anything  _but_  clouds.

_TBC_


	3. Sanity Has Escaped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it begins.

I'm in heaven, I have to be. Either that or I'm more tired than I realized.

I'm floating on clouds and as I clutch the soft sheets closer to my skin I moan. The feeling as they slide against my body is amazing. They're made of silk, nice expensive silk and soft feathered pillows I've only dreamed of having. Like Isabel, she has feathered pillows.

No silk sheets though or a bed made out of clouds.

Fuck, what I wouldn't give to make this fantasy into reality, to have bed made out of clouds instead of stone and feather pillows and soft silk sheets. But I can't and as much as I want to linger in between the realm of sleep and reality I have to get up for work soon.

It may be the weekend but I still have to work.

Mr. and Mrs. Hofmann, the kindly owners of Classic American, said something about a rich family booking the restaurant for a party or something and wanting all hands on deck as early as possible. And even though it's normally my day off, the extra hours really sound appealing right now.

_Will I be able to keep my job after the move?_

With a groan of utter defeat, as yesterday's worries come rushing back with that thought, I wrench myself from dreamland and back to my harsh reality. I need to change into my work uniform, grab a bagel or something for breakfast, and high-tail my ass to work before I'm late and Mr. Hofmann sends me packing.

I  _really_ don't need  _that._

I launch off my bed, eyes still half closed and still more than a bit asleep, because the fear of that is  _very_ real, and scrabble to my closet and to pull out my uniform.

I circle the room twice before I realize that something is wrong. Horribly wrong but by then all I can do is stare at the crisp white walls in contemplation. Did Isabel paint my room white well I slept as a sign for me to pack my bags and get out?

And did she steal my furniture and replace it with these tacky black ones? God, she really has no creativity when it comes to decorating. If it weren't for Luz and her love for mixing and matching and all things color, I'm pretty sure the whole house would be white on black.

Did she remodel the entire room?

 _Where the fuck is my closet_?

I look around the room once more and only then notice that the cloud bed and silk sheets and feathered pillow weren't a part of my imagination. They're actually there, a rumpled, disheveled mess but right fucking there and I wonder how Isabel managed to switch my bed with me still on it and how she could afford such expensive bedding.

Man, when she wants to get the point across she really pulls out all the stops. I bet my entire check that my things are packed and waiting for me downstairs too. I thought she was going to talk to father before making any decisions?

Wait, this is Isabel I'm talking about. How could I forget?

Knowing her, my shit's probably half way to Africa by now. Or Mexico, depending on my father's current location I'm guessing.

I don't have time for this, god dammit!

I have to get to work soon! My internal clock is screaming that I'm late, late, late even though I'm not sure what time it actually is and there's no clock—analog or digital—for me to check. But relief washes over me as I spot ink black curtains across the room—on the opposite side of where I remember the window being—and scrabble to them.

I'm not exactly sure what I'll find when I wrench the curtains back but I'm hoping for the foggy grey skies of an early morning and dreading the bright sunny skies that means it's past ten and I'm definitely late. Why didn't I set my alarm? Not that it would have matter since Isabel would have probably taken that too.

Still…

Again, I'm not sure what I'll find once I throw those curtains open but when I do peek outside I get stuck on stupid for what feels like  _hours_.

The neighborhood's gone….

And so are the trees and grass and cars and just about everything for miles and miles.

How did Isabel pull  _that_  off?

I'm beginning to think that  _I'm_ the one that was moved and not my stuff….Or the neighborhood because there's no way that Isabel would have been able to cover the neighborhood for miles and miles in sand. Desert sand and strange white builds that just go up, up, up, past the fluffy white clouds and bright blue skies.

_Where the fuck am I?_

The air of déjà vu hits me full force but I ignore it because, one thing's for sure, with skies that bright, I'm definitely late. Its past noon, no doubt about it, and I'm sure I can kiss my job good-bye now. Mr. Hofmann absolutely  _hates_  people who are late because—to him—being late means you're lazy and he won't stand for laziness in his restaurant.

He tends to fire lazy people on the spot.

_"Son of a bitch."_

I throw the curtains close as the curse leaves my lips and dive back into the soft  _(marshmallows and clouds and heaven)_ bed. Might as well, since I have no idea where I am and I'd rather sleep than deal with the  _(cruel, harsh, unfair)_  world at the moment.

_I'll deal with this shit when I have enough energy._

It doesn't take long for the comforts of what has to be a thousand dollar bed to lull me back into to the state of not awake but not asleep as I once again strive to forget. Just for now, just for a bit. But, just before I'm about to slip completely into the lands of dreams a loud  _bang_ sounds across the room.

I can only curse as I jump—startled by the noise—off the bed. Or at least I try to jump off the bed but the silk sheets stop me as they tangle around legs. Instead, I tumble off the bed in a jumbled mess of failing limbs and curses.

The crack of my head connecting rather harshly against the—weirdly—white tiled floor is deafening and any curses that I'd been about to say are forgotten because all I can think to do is moan in pain. I clutch at my head as soon as the shock wears off enough for me to move.

Dear god, that's painful.

The world spins, my head throbs, my ears ring and when I open my eyes all I can see is stars. Now, I'm not weakling that will cry over a single paper cut. I'm not a stranger to pain—physical, mental, or emotional—and have a high tolerance for it after having struggled, suffered, and gotten into some many near death accidents in my life.

So if you see  _me_ on the floor in pain it usually means I might want to get checked over by a doctor or rushed into the hospital.

Once the world stops spinning and the stars return to space I crawl, rather pitifully, back onto the bed and curl up into a ball because my head still throbs something fierce. Man, I'll be annoyed if I do have to go to the hospital, I fucking hate hospitals.

They smell like antiseptic and sickness and death and I just can't stand the long hours waiting in the emergency room. I fucking hate waiting and being stuck in a room full of sick and wounded people all day isn't exactly my cup of tea.

"Is it still alive?"

_It?_

The distinctly male voice comes from the direction of the earlier  _bang_  and I really hope he's not talking about me because—irritated and hurting as I am—I won't hesitate to rip into him. Where the fuck are his manners?

Didn't his mother raise him better to call a girl 'it'.

Well, he's definitely never getting laid.

Or married.

Wait, why is he just standing there instead of trying to figure out if I'll live. Not that I want to be pampered or anything but isn't it normal to at least ask if someone's okay after seeing them crack their head open on the—ridiculously—tiled floor?

_Who the fuck puts tile flooring in a bedroom anyways?_

The bed shifts next to me but I don't think I can handle moving again just yet so don't turn to look at whoever's now sitting next to me. Not until cool, strong ( _ice and stone_ ) arms slip under me and pull me up and by then all I can do is groan in pain as the shift in elevation causes my head to throb violently.

"Ah! What the fuck, asshole," I growl out and I would have said more if my stomach hadn't begun to rebel the sudden movement. That's the thing about me; pain makes me nauseous, makes my stomach churn and makes me want to upchuck into the nearest trash can.

I try my best to curl in on myself but begin held—bridal style, I might add—doesn't really allow for it and the rocking motion of walking is doing nothing to help my queasiness. It would serve the fucker right if I threw up on him though. Teach him to touch someone without asking.

God, I can feel my skin crawl.

_I hate being touched._

"I think I'm going to be sick."

I'm not sure why I warn him but, maybe it's a good thing that I did because the rocking stops before I can taste last night's cookies again. Delicious as they had been going down, I highly doubt they'll taste the same on their way out.

Up until this point I've still kept my eyes closed but when I hear whispers erupt around me, my curiosity gets the better of me and I open my eyes to bright white and ink black. It's everywhere I look and now I'm truly starting to wonder just where I've woken up.

I've seen Hospitals with more color than this.

The ground, I've been place on the ground I realize as my gaze, hazy and a little doubled, lands once again on the white tiled floor. It feels cool and refreshing on my bare legs and I press my palms to it when the world begins to tilt dangerously.

The whispers continue around me but I can't separate the voices enough to make sense of what is being said. And it's not until I see shoes in the edge of my still blurry vision that I realize someone's standing in front of me.

"And who is this?"

The only reason I can make those words out at all is because all others die away the moment it sounds and I don't have to look up to know that they belong to the person in front of me. I still do, though, and as my eyes continue to meet white—white pants and robes—a vague sense of déjà vu hits me. But it's only as my eyes land on a red sash amongst all that white that déjà vu runs me over.

_I've seen that look somewhere…_

_'Aizen,'_  my mind whispers and before I can think much more on that a hand, soft and warm, slips under my chin and tilts my face up. My eyes lock with deep brown ones filled with curiosity and I would have batted the hand away if my whole body hadn't frozen.

If my mind wasn't screaming,  _'What the fuck"_ and I wasn't trying desperately to pinpoint the exact moment I'd gone batshit insane. Because there's no way, it can't be, but it is and, wow, he's hotter than I remember and shouldn't he be locked up somewhere under the soul society right now?

I mean, last I'd heard and read, he was sentenced to eighteen thousand and eight hundred years in Muken. So why is he here? Dressed in his old Lord Uniform staring down at me like I'm a bug under his shoe?

"Who are you, dear child?"

Ah, okay, awkward….

I must have hit my head harder than I thought if I'm actually seeing the ex-lord of Las Noches looming over me.

"Trixy, Trixy BuenaSuerte," I finally answer when his hand begins tightens around my chin. It's a threat; everything in me is screaming that it is, so I answer before his anger can get the best of him. He always did have anger issues.

At least  _I_ thought he did.

But, anger issues aside, you're probably wondering what I've been blundering on about or at least really confused so let me explain. I'm currently sitting—well, kneeling actually—in front of Aizen Sosuke, the great (ex) lord of Las Noches.

Weird, isn't it?

I must have knocked a few screws loose when I hit my head. And isn't that the way to go? Knocked insane after taking a tumbled off the bed? I always thought that, when I finally lost it, it'd be because I caved from stress, or it would have been because my psyche shattered.

Somehow, multiple personalities sounds a lot more exciting than seeing Aizen.

Don't get me wrong, he's great, being all-powerful and all, but Aizen can get a tab bit annoying. What with his constant need to take over the world. I know he only attempted it once so far but I have a feeling he might just give it another go soon.

Or maybe he already did…I'm actually not sure, I stopped reading the manga after the winter war for, ah, personal reasons. Okay, I'll admit, after my, um,  _love interest—_ yeah let's go with that—died I couldn't really bring myself to keep reading.

There's something about your favorite character dying that can really ruin a series for you.

"And where did you find this…Ryoka, Ulquiorra?"

_Ryoka?_

That means something, something important. I know it does but give me a second to stare at Aizen in stunned curiosity because I think I just heard him say Ulquiorra. I would ask if you heard it too just to make sure I'm not going crazy but we've already established that I have.

"I found it sleeping in my private quarters."

There we go with 'it' again. Can they not tell that I'm a girl or something? Do I have to puff out my chest just so they'll be able to tell? I mean, my breast are noticeable enough if you ask me and they're not exactly hidden behind my tank top.

Wait…was that Ulquiorra just now?

"Looks like, Ulquiorra's been hiding a toy from us."

_Toy?_

I can't really decide if that's better than 'it' or not.

As Aizen's hand finally slips away from my chin I turn to look behind me. And, maybe, it's because I'm not really surprised that my sanity is now non-existent that I don't even blink at who I see behind me. Or maybe it's because all the white manages to blind me.

It's everywhere and, not for the first time, I wonder over Aizen's obvious love for the color—or lack of.

Behind me, littered across the room, stand the Espadas. From the first to the last and I stare almost dumbly as I look them over one by one. They look so healthy—so  _alive_  compared to when I last saw them, beat and broken and inches away from death.

"Shit, what the hell's going on?"

It's a mumble meant for my ears alone as I rub my head to soothe the building headache. I can feel a bump growing where my head met tile and I hiss as I try to rub away the pain. Doctor, I need a doctor and a bucket load of pain pills.

"I was hoping you would be able to answer that, little one," Aizen says and I turn back t o look at him as he continues, "Would you mind telling me how you got into my palace undetected?" It sounds like a request but if I know Aizen—figment of my imagination or not—nothing is request.

It's a demand and I curse under my breath when I realize that I really shouldn't be kneeling in front of this man. It shows weakness and that's something I don't think this man should think I am, because Aizen has no use for weak things.

Hold on, I thought we established that Aizen and his band of minions where just a figment my crazed mind? If anything, I should ecstatic to be hallucinating about them and do everything I've wanted to do  _to_  and  _with_  them. They're just an illusion, right?

Then why do I feel like if I don't stand up and hold my own I'll be incinerated on the spot or worse?

It takes of lot of strength and concentration to get to my feet and stubbornness alone is all that keeps me standing as my head begins to protest the change in elevation. I can feel myself swaying a bit but I ignore it as I meet Aizen amused gaze straight on.

He still looms over me and not for the first time I curse my short stature.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I say when he quirks a brow and I remember I've yet to answer his question. "I honestly don't know," I add when I stop something dark coming over his expression. "I just, kind of, woke up here."

_In Las Noches._

But I won't tell them I know yet.

"You're a human," Aizen says after a short pause and if my head didn't hurt enough for me  _not_  to care I would have tensed as he begins to circle around me. "And yet you're here, in Hueco Mundo," he continues and I'm not quite sure what to make of his words so I give the obvious response.

"Of course I'm human. What else would I be?" I ask and when Aizen turns a smirk my way I begin to think that this is all an act. Aizen was always one for dramatics and I have no doubts that he's mentally scripted just exactly how he's going to 'reveal' the existence of souls and hollows and Arrancars and just a whole bunch of shit I just don't have the patience to listen to.

"Oh, a Vizard, right? I forgot about them," I say nonchalantly and have to keep myself from smirking when Aizen pauses in his circling. "They're the human looking ones that possess the powers of an Arrancar or something like that, right?"

It's nice to know I one upped Aizen and I probably would have done a little happy dance if it weren't for my throbbing head and the hand once again gripping my chin. Aizen looms over me as he tilts my head back once more.

"Who do you work for?" he demands and I can't keep from flinching out of his grip when it tightens to a bruising grip. He only lets me go because the quick movement throws off my balance and I stumble back.

"Me, myself, and I," I growl out as I rub at my chin.

Just what I need more pain.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's not exactly like I can choose what I want to hallucinate about," I mumble under my breath as I continue to rub at my chin. "Believe me, if I could I'd be on beach with a margarita in one hand and a book in the other," I continue to mumble as I turn back to the crowd behind me.

What?

Margaritas are delicious, nobody can deny that.

"And you, you'd definitely be there with me," I whisper as my eyes land on my 'love interest'.

He stands tall, back straight and head high as he watches my every move while I gaze at him. He looks so alert and on guard and  _not fucking dust_  that I just know that I have gone crazy. Bullshit aside, this is nice, to see him alive and well, because it chases away the images of dust and blood and pain and tears.

It lifts the weight of grief and I can't help smiling as I continue to gaze at him.

_At least hallucinations are great for something._

"This bitch is crazy."

I don't take the words as an insult, I can't because they're a fact and I won't begrudge someone for pointing them out—offensive wording or not. Instead I turn my gaze to the one who spoke and nod my head in agreement.

"Yeah, I lost my marbles sometime last night," I say as I spot Nnoitra. He looks just as healthy and alive as everyone and for some unexplainable reason it makes me smile too. It makes me  _happy_ to see him and Harribel and Starrk and Szayel and  _god damn_ all of them alive and well.

Except Luppi, who sits atop of a white pillar and almost out of sight.

I could have lived without ever seeing him again.

I hate him more than I hate useless ( _Kurosaki-kun_ ) Orihime and her constant crying. We get it, you love him now why don't you go tell him that and quit pining after him? Seriously, it gets annoying. If you love someone just do it, go for it, confess.

Worst case scenario, they reject you and you move on.

Why live in uncertainty and anxiety when everything you've ever wanted is right there, hallucination or not? Speaking of which I got a love interest to confess to. Yeah, I know, it's an illusion but, come on, let me be happy in my delusion.

Just for a bit, just for now, just until reality comes back to bite me in the ass.

When I turn back to him, his green ( _emerald_ ) eyes are on me and it's with a small amount of self-consciousness that I realize they never left. Though I'm pretty sure it's because I'm the most exciting—well, oddest thing to have happened.

A human appearing in the Las Noches Palace without anyone noticing?

I'd dare someone to top that.

I take careful, measured ( _wobbly_ ) steps towards him and he watches my every move even though I'm about as fearsome as a mouse. They're probably expecting me to turn out to be dangerous which is laughable if you think about it.

I'm can't even walk straight!

I'm not sure what I'll do when I reach him as the nervousness begins to build up and my palms get sweating and a lump forms in my throat. But my mind is shouting, " _kiss him!_ " so maybe it's a good thing that I get interrupted on my way to him.

Well, not interrupted so much as my attention is drawn to a clear crystal box and the bandaged figure in it. Wonderweiss, it's Wonderweiss before Aizen turns him into his weapon of mass destruction. Sweet baby Wonderweiss who will die at the hands of Head Captain Yamamoto—well, because of Head Captain Yamamoto's power.

"You too," I whisper and it's only then, as my hand is inches from touching the crystal box that I realize I've changed course and moved towards Wonderweiss. "I'd definitely take you to the beach and we'd build sand castles and swim and play all day, Wonderweiss."

I know he's not actually a baby but that's always been the way I've seen him.

"How do you know his name?"

Aizen's eyes are pins in my back but I ignore them as I shrug and skim my fingertips against the box. I let my fingers linger there even as I can tell Aizen's getting impatient and it's only when I hear footsteps heading in my direction that I answer.

"Somewhere, somehow, my reality is some else's fiction," I whisper as I draw away from Wonderweiss and those words feel so  _right_  as I say them. It's as if they explain everything and lift whatever confusion lingers as I turn back to gaze at Aizen. "I know everyone's name, Lord Sosuke Aizen."

But this isn't reality.

_Is it?_

"And how the fuck would a  _human_  know our names?"

It's the same voice from before, the one that called me crazy and bitch and a toy but the way he says human makes it sound like the dirtiest curse word I've ever heard and I don't know if I should be impressed or offended. Sure, offended is the logical choice but there isn't anything logical about this.

"Shut up, Nnoitra," I hiss as I whip around to glare at him and when his eyes widen I smirk. There's just something so satisfying about catching everyone off guard that I don't think of the consequence until after I find myself restrained. "Ah! What the fuck?"

A cold hand holds my arms behind my back in a strong, unyielding grip and I can't keep from struggling even as I'm pulled into and equally cold chest. Another hand wraps around my chest and even after I see the pale white skin I don't stop struggling.

_Don't touch!_

"I will ask you again, who do you work for?"

Aizen's voice booms across the room and I can't help flinching as its super fucking scary. I've managed to piss him off and that realization alone has me pushing into the arms behind me. I'm not cowering, not really. I'm just trying to get as far away as possible from him before he blows.

"And I told you, I work for no one but myself," I growl at him and meet his glare head on even though I'm still desperately trying to back away. "So why don't you calm your tits, call off you're henchmen, and  _then_  will discuss this like grown as adults."

Luz always did say I needed a brain to mouth filter and as I watch Aizen's face increase to a shade of red I've only seen on fire trucks I'm inclined to believe her. Especially when the hand holding mines turns into a bruising grip. I can hear someone snickering in the background and I'd bet my entire paycheck that it's Nnoitra.

At least I won't be dying alone.

For his part Aizen says nothing, simply nods his head at his ever loyal lap-dog and motions for me to speak. I shove his hands off me instantly, eager to break contact, and brush imaginary dust off my clothes as I stand tall. I may not legally be an adult but I can't see why Aizen would need to know that.

"How did you get here?" he asks and I meet his gaze for a minute before taking another look around the room. Everyone's got curious eyes on me and for a second I wonder how much of anything can be blamed on loss of sanity.

If I was hallucinating wouldn't I just be seeing them and not Las Noches?

"I'll tell you when I figure it out," I say and meet his gaze head on even as his eyes start to narrow.

"Who do you work for?"

"This again?" I question. "Why don't you just ask me out-right if I work for the Soul Society? Not that I do. I mean, what would the Soul Society do with a human?" I ask and I'm not really looking for an answer as I give Aizen a confused look. "And don't say Ichigo because we both know he's not exactly human, is he?"

Aizen's silence is answer enough and I nod my head in understanding. Someone with that much power can't be human. Well, they can't be a hundred percent human and while I'm not sure just exactly what he has in him I know he's at least fifty percent Shinigami. He's also part Vizard and he has the other type of power that popped up in the chapters after the war.

Can't remember what it was called though.

"What are you doing here?"

"Honestly? Turning oxygen into carbon dioxide and trying to figure out if I've really lost my marbles just from hitting my head on your  _tiled_ floor," I say and take another look around the room. "It's really stupid to have tile in bedrooms, you know? One fall off the bed and suddenly you find yourself in the Bleach universe talking to the almighty lord, hell-bent on taking over the world. Not exactly how I planned to spend my Saturday."

"Bleach…Universe…?"

The way Aizen says the words, slow and pronouncing every syllable as if they're from a foreign language has dread piling up in my stomach as I turn back to look at him. His face is pinched in confusion and I can feel the blood draining from my blood as I realize that he really has no idea what I'm saying.

"Yeah, Bleach. You know, the name of your, well, Ichigo's story really," I explain, desperate for him to understand but as the confused look reminds on his face I know I'm in some deep shit.

How can he not know the name of his own story?

How come everyone looks as confused as him?

_What the fuck is going on?_

**_TBC_ **


	4. Decisions

 

The silence is deafening, bearing in from all sides as wide eyes continue to peer at me. And isn't that something? To be surrounded by a silence so loud in front of  _these_  people—Arrancars, Espadas, whatever the hell you want to call them.

They're the most obnoxious bunch of assholes (except Starrk and Harribel and Ulquiorra) ever created (imagined?) and for it to be quiet enough that I can hear my heart pounding against my chest is kind of amazing. I was under the impression that Nnoitra wouldn't shut up unless Aizen threatened him.

It's kind of unsettling really, for it to be so quiet and I clear my throat awkwardly.

"I don't know how to feel about this," I say, more to myself than them as I let my eyes once again sweep around the room. And I really  _don't_  know how I feel about it. My emotions are a mix of surprise, relief, confusion, and frustration.

How is it possible that my own hallucinations don't know what the fuck is going on?

I would have expected them to mock me about getting knocked crazy and them being the first thing my mind conjures. Or something like that, I'm not really sure how hallucinations work when you've lost your sanity. Actually I don't know anything about losing your mind!

Wait, strike that.

I know that Schizophrenic people can tickle themselves.

But that's useless in this situation.

My eyes continue to flash around the room, flickering from one Espada to the next until they land on Wonderweiss again. He's still in that box, cover from head to toe in gauze, waiting to be transformed into Aizen's latest minion and as I stare at him something in my mind clicks.

Luppi's still the Sexta, Wonderweiss hasn't been transformed, the Espadas are gathered—the Espada's are alive! They're not dead, not dust in the wind, at least not yet and as my eyes shift from Wonderweiss to Aizen determination fills me.

They're not dead, and it'll be over my dead body if I let them die for Aizen's doomed plans of world domination.

But how do I do it?

How do I go about making sure everyone lives?

They're fated to die, to pass on, if I save them from their destined death who's to say they won't be wipe out by something else? (Ever see _Final Destination_? Yes? Then you know what I'm talking about.) And, either way, will I really be able to save them all?

Wonderweiss, Stark, Harribel, and Barragan die in The World of the Living at the same time—if not right after—Grimmjow, Nnoitra, Szayel, and just about everyone else dies in Hueco Mundo. How the fuck am I going to travel between the worlds fast enough to stop them all?

_It's impossible._

I can't save them all.

I have to choose.

My eyes flicker back to Wonderweiss, sweet baby Wonderweiss, who can't talk, can't express himself, can do nothing more than babble and drool because of Aizen. Aizen did—will do something to him. What was it Yamamoto said?

He said Aizen was cruel because he stripped Wonderweiss of his ability to speak and to feel. He made him into nothing more than a killing machine. There's no quality of life for him, not after what Aizen will do to him and that's something I can't stop.

My fingers once again skim across the glass and I pretend not to notice their trembling as I whisper, "I'm sorry." Because I truly am, I've given up on him already and it feels like a betrayal even though he hasn't a clue what I'm apologizing about.

And the fact that, by giving up on Wonderweiss, I'll be saving my love interest doesn't help ease the guilt.

"I interrupted something, didn't I?" I ask as I back away from the box. I make my way back to Aizen and plant myself firmly at his side. "I understand that you're suspicions of the human who appeared without so much of a 'how do you do?' but we both know I'm practically harmless," I say as I gaze at him. "And if it makes you feel better, I can honestly tell you that I hate the Soul Society too. Maybe not as much as you but I do."

"Really?" he asks and you could read the amusement on his face from a mile away as he quirks a brow and a small half-smile graces his lips. There's something about that smile though that has me staring at him in slight confusion.

"Yeah, they've pissed me off more than once. Especially with what they did to the Quincy. I mean sure the Quincy were getting out of line but wiping out an entire race is kind of brutal, even for their standards and then there was that thing with Urahara…." I'm babbling, I know I am but there's something about that smile that's throwing me off kilter and I can't pinpoint exactly what it is.

"They didn't even let him explain, just treated him like a criminal when all he was trying to do was save Shinji and the others after you—" I cut myself off there but I know it's too late as the smile drops off of Aizen's face and his eyes go hard.

Ironically, it's then that I realize why the smile bothered me. Because it's only once it's gone that I realize it was a genuine smile—not a smirk, not a shit eating grin or fake or indulgent but a _fucking_  smile that reached Aizen's eyes and softened them. And for some reason that scares me more than Aizen's current glaring.

Cold arms once again hold mine behind my back and I don't fight them. I can't because I'm still not over Aizen's smile. I'm stunned, completely caught off guard and I don't realize I've been forced to kneel until I find Aizen towering over me.

"How much do you know?"

I'm second away from death, I know I am but I'm not scared. At least not of my potential death. I'm scared of that smile but it's not the smile exactly but what it represented.

We forget that Aizen wasn't always like this—he  _couldn't_  have always been a power crazed tyrant—and that smile? Well, that smile didn't belong to the power crazed tyrant but to the man who lost his way and for some reason that scares me more than him looming over me with every intention of ending my life.

"Everything."

Aizen stills at my response, they all do. The silence once again becomes deafening but I pay it no mind as I finally give Aizen a straight answer. No half-truths or lies or deflections or sarcastic remarks, just the honest to god truth. And he can sense that it is.

"I know about your plans, your experiments, and your betrayals. I know about Ichigo and Orihime and Chad. I know about Rangiku, Aizen," I say and I don't know if Aizen tenses because of her name or because of everything I'm telling him. "I can even tell you that I know the outcome of the war—who lives, who dies, and who wins—but what I don't know is what caused you to do this. All of this. "

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

The Espadas still remain quiet and I don't doubt it's because they're scared of bring their Lord's wrath unto themselves. It's kind of sad really that I'm more willingly to challenge Aizen than they are because Aizen could kill me in a second if he really wanted to.

"Let her go," Aizen finally says after a lengthy silence and the hands holding me down disappear instantly. I don't stand though; I remain where I am, kneeling in front of the Lord of Las Noches. "You…amuse me," he says as he continues to loom over me. "For that I will let your insolence go. But know this; it will only be this once, next time you shall be punished."

"Punished?"

"If you claim to dislike the Soul Society then surely you are not opposed to joining my cause?" Aizen says and all I can do is shake my head because the direction this conversation has taken has thrown me for a damn loop.  _What the fuck is going on?_  "Then you should know that I, as the Lord of Las Noches, demand the up most respect. Is that understood?"

I nod even though my thoughts are still going in circles. Aizen doesn't seem to notice that he's lost me at  _'amuse'_  as he steps away from me and moves to Wonderweiss without another word to me. I stay where I am, kneeling on the cool tiled-floor even as Aizen gets to work on Wonderweiss and explains to everyone what he's doing.

His words are lost to me because I'm still trying to process what just happened.

I was under the impression that Aizen hated humans so why the  _fuck_  would he let a simple, powerless human into his ranks? Hell, forget the human part, since when does Aizen let insubordination—and rudeness—slide? The Aizen I know rules with an iron fist.

_What the fuck is going on!?_

The sound of shattering glass pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn in time to see the smoke dissipate.

"…tell us your name, new comrade?"

"...Wonderweiss, Wonderweiss Margela."

All eyes snap to me the instant his name is out of his mouth and I can do nothing more than hang my head because I know I just sealed my fate. I'm going to be stuck here until Aizen wrings every last drop of knowledge from me and, honestly, I can't really say anything but 'fuck'.

"Do you remember the directive I spoke to you about last month, Ulquiorra?" Aizen asks and I watch him curiously even though I already know what he's talking about. He waits for Ulquiorra's quiet conformation before he continues, "Put it into motion."

"I shall leave the details to your discretion," Aizen says after a short pause. "You may take whomever you like, though I do think it would be the opportune time to train the new recruits, don't you?" he asks and his words shock me.

I was under the impression that I wouldn't be allowed to set a foot outside of Las Noches. Or—more likely—that I would be thrown into a dungeon, never to see the light of day again. Hell, I kind of like the idea of going to Karakura Town.

Maybe, if I'm lucky, I might even catch a peek of Renji.

What?

Don't look at me like that, redheads are sexy!

"Understood," Ulquiorra voice comes out steady, pitch never wavering and no reveal of any emotions in his words and I can't help but give him a curious once over as he approaches me. Though it's only when a cold hand wraps on my upper arm and yanks me to my feet that I realize that his eyes are narrowed just a bit more than normal.

He's mad!

It's not something you would notice unless you were looking for it and I wince as he begins to drag me towards the giant double doors. Well, I definitely didn't make a good impression. I'd be mad too if some random bitch woke up in my room and then I was forced to drag her around with me.

Wait….

Hold up….

Ulquiorra's mad!

I guess the emotionless bastard isn't so emotionless after all.

"See to it that she gets a proper uniform. We can't have the Shinigami thinking we're taking hostages," Aizen adds and Ulquiorra doesn't respond. He only gives a curt nod and I got to wonder if this is his way of rebelling when he's mad. "Ah, yes. Would you go to, Grimmjow?"

The sound of his name sends a shiver down my spine and reminds me that, yes, Grimmjow is here. My eyes snap to him instantly—high above a pillar and almost completely engulfed in darkness—and what can only be described as a shit ton of unfiltered  _hate_  crashes through my body.

My glare has nothing on his, I'm sure. I mean, I'm a five-foot midget and he's a six-foot one tree but that doesn't stop me from glaring at him with all I have. And why am I glaring at the blue kitty you ask? Because I hate this fucker more than I can ever express.

Because it's his fault the love of my life died.

If he'd just let Ichigo stay dead, Ulquiorra would have lived!

(Yes, my love interest is Ulquiorra. If you honestly hadn't realized it before than I'd be a little concerned.)

I mean, sure, Aizen would have won the war and thousand of innocents would have died but…crap…put it that way and I sound like an out-right bitch. Grimmjow may have gotten Ulquiorra killed but he technically saved the world too….

Oh well, still hate him.

Call me selfish if you want.

I only catch Grimmjow's blue gaze for a second before I'm dragged out the door and into the halls. For once I decide to stay quiet as Ulquiorra drags me around because the grip on my arm is close to bruising. Strike that, it's close to bone crushing because I can already feel the bruises forming under his harsh grip.

It doesn't help that I bruise easily.

_You know, I'm getting tired of all his goddamn manhandling…_

No, wait. Calm down, Trixy. No need to get into a fight.

My irritation continues to build but I bite my tongue against all the sarcastic comments and insults wanting to pour out of my mouth because, well, I really do like him and it would be nice if he liked me back.

We continue down the white halls and the overabundance of it causes my head to throb. My headache is still going strong and I'm a little amazed that I managed to ignore it in Aizen's presence. Then again I was too busy trying to figure out what was going on—wait?

When did I stop thinking this was just a figment of my crazed mind?

Because it is, isn't?

Before I can think more on it I'm pulled—well, more like shoved—through another door and I zone in just in time to catch myself on a bed before I can reacquaint myself with the stupid tiled-floor. And because I'm already half way on it I decide to climb onto the bed of clouds as I turn to look at Ulquiorra.

He doesn't even glance in my direction as he heads towards another door and begins to rummage through what I now realize is a closet. So I'm guessing he'll be lending me a uniform? Will it fit? I mean, I do need a little extra room in the front of the top than him….

"Wear these for now," he says as he turns back around. "We don't have time to get you a proper one." It's all he says in explanation as he places the clothes next to me. He's out the door before I can express my concern over the slight size issues and I purse my lips to keep in the curses.

_Well, fuck you too then._

With a huff I begin to undress and trade tank top and shorts of too big pants and a tight shirt. I can't even get the damn thing to zip over my chest no matter how much I pull and hold my breath. So it's with another aggravated huff that I rip the damn thing off and put my tank top back on.

It's black so if I wear it with the top over it I doubt anyone will notice it's not exactly part of the uniform. I look for a mirror to inspect myself and once I do I realize that the coat tails are going to have to go. They drag against the floor and just look utterly ridiculous but I can't cut them off.

Oh! I know! I take one coat-tail in each hand and tie them into a bow at the small of my back. It doesn't look fabulous but it's better than before so I turn my attention to the pants. Ulquiorra may not be as tall as Grimmjow but he's still taller than me so I have to roll them up a bit so that I won't be tripping all over the place.

With one more look in the mirror I deem myself presentable and exit the room. Ulquiorra didn't give me a pair of shoes so I guess I'll be going without. Not that I mind, I at least have some black socks on so I'll be good unless I get them wet.

Well, there's nothing that I can do.

I find myself pausing with my hand on the door knob and not for the first time I wonder what's truly going on. I can't really be in Hueco Mundo, can I? Am I really going to Karakura? I push the door open before I can come up with an answer and ignore the silence that follows as a multiple pair of eyes turn my way.

It seems Ulquiorra got his team together while I was busy changing.

I didn't really take that long, did I?

The group begins to move as I join them and I follow after them reluctantly. I know what's going to happen next, we're going to travel into Karakura town and create a distraction but they don't know that I know and it'd be nice if someone would at least explain some of the finer details of this plan.

As we walk the group mumbles amongst themselves, all of them chitter and chat except for one. He trails after us silently, right arm clenching and unclenching at his side. He's eager, impatient; he sees this as his opportunity to get revenge and it's saddening really.

I know the outcome of this mission and it's a little sad to say the Grimmjow will get the ever-living shit beat out of him.

Wait!

Hold up!

Why am I sad? And for him! That's the motherfucker that's going to get Ulquiorra killed (and technically help save the world) so why should I feel sad for the fur ball?

_Because he's just as lonely as you are._

Oh hell no, I'm not going there, not now.

I rip my gaze from him and go back to watching the rest of the group. Yammy's walking on Ulquiorra's right going on about something or the other with Luppi. Ulquiorra remains quite, gaze forward ignoring the rapidly heating debate between the two.

I zone out as I watch them, my mind drifts away and I don't react when an irritated Yammy swats Luppi away with the flick of his wrist and sends him flying my direction. It's not until I find myself tilting sideways as someone yanks on my hand that I realize that Luppi's coming my way and I stagger to the side—both to avoid the upcoming collision and to keep my footing.

After the danger's past and I turn to my left to find Wonderweiss still clutching onto my hand. He doesn't look back at me though. He looks forward, face blank, and I can't help but wonder how much of that is him and how much of it is what Aizen's done to him. We continue forward without a word, my hand still clutch in his and I don't fight him.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I register Luppi's irate cursing and Yammy's crackles but it's ignored. But when we reach a white door at the end of an equally white hall all noise stops and everyone enters without a word.

Inside are chairs and tables and I distantly realize that this is a planning room.

On the center of the table is a map of Karakura town and we gather around it without promoting. Ulquiorra explains the details of the mission, it's purpose and who's doing what. I watch him as he talks and it's with a hint of anger that I realize he's not talking to us—us being Grimmjow, Wonderweiss, and me.

His gaze is focus strictly on Luppi and Yammy, never once flickering in our direction. It's also then that I realize that Wonderweiss and Grimmjow and I have been indirectly forced to sit together. I'm sandwich between the two on the other side of the table.

We've been deemed useless just because we're not Espadas.

 _"God damn, he's a bigger asshole than I thought,"_  I grumble under my breath as I lean back into my chair and cross my arms. A huff to my right tells me that Grimmjow's heard me. I fight back a blush as I squirm in my seat.  _"I swear he's a bigger asshole than Aizen."_

Grimmjow's cough brings a smile to my lips because I know he's hiding a laugh. Wonderweiss giggles to my left and I would have joined him if I wasn't so caught off guard.

_I thought Yamamoto said he couldn't feel emotions._

"Silence."

Ulquiorra reprimand has me sitting straighter in our seats while Wonderweiss tries to choke back giggles. Grimmjow for his part simply rolls his eyes and slumps further into his seat but stays quiet.

Ulquiorra continues the meeting once he's satisfied that we're all paying attention and all too soon I find myself once again slumping in my seat from boredom. He's got a voice that can put anyone to sleep and I probably would have dozed off if the voice to my right hadn't sent me into a fit of giggles.

_"Asshole."_

**_TCB_**


	5. Questions

  _Asshole._

It’s because of that one word—and the resulting giggle fit that left me breathless—that I now find myself being dragged along by a very unpleased Ulquiorra. His eyes are narrowed again and I can feel my wrist threatening to give under his harsh grip. I can already see the bruises forming too.

The others trail after us, a cautious air about them as we go on in silence. They’re worried about bringing Ulquiorra’s attention onto themselves. I don’t blame them. Ulquiorra can be scary when he wants to be so the others stay a few paces behind us.

Except Wonderweiss.

He walks next to me, hand once again clutching mine as he babbles happily. And it’s the happily part that throws me off. From what I know, or more like  _assumed_ , this isn’t how Wonderweiss is supposed to act. He should be more like Ulquiorra, void of emotions and uncaring.

Not happily gurgling as we make our way through a garganta.

And isn’t that something?

I’m currently being dragged through a garganta by a very peeved Ulquiorra.

It’s weird, I’ll give you that. That garganta that is, though Ulquiorra showing his emotions is too. It’s so dark; we’re surrounded by an inky blackness, yet I can see everyone clearly. There are no dark shadows or blurry images. I can make out the turquoise tuff of hair and Grimmjow’s scowl as clear as day even though he’s once again at the very back of the group.

Though more than weird, it’s kind of scary—terrifying really.

We’re walking on a trail—a white _something_ that only appears as Ulquiorra goes. It forms seconds before his next step and since I’m being dragged behind him it means I’m right there with him, on the edge.

One misstep, one stumble is all it would take to find myself going overboard.

What  _would_  happen if I fell?

Needless to say that thought alone has me straining my arm as far as it’ll go. I desperately try to stay as far away from the edge as I can with Ulquiorra vise like grip on my arm. Though straining to get way only seems to be angering him more.   

Well, it’s not my fault I’m scared of heights.

In a desperate effort to pretend I’m not on the on the edge of what could possibly be a very large fall I find myself turning away. I’m walking sideways, head turned towards the back while Ulquiorra drags me forward by one hand and Wonderwise clutches the other.

It’s a bit tricky to walk like this without tripping over and I’m actually shuffling more than anything but I refuse to walk as close to the edge as Ulquiorra seems to want me to. The others wear a look of amused confusion as the watch me shuffle along but I don’t comment on it because my gaze is drawn to Grimmjow’s scowling face.

It’s his default expression, at least I would think it is and, as I watch him scowl at anything and everything, an important question comes to mind.

_Is it worth it?_

Is it really worth going through the hell I’m a hundred percent positive I will have to go through just to save them? Is it worth the blood, sweat, and tears that will likely follow? They’re basically a group of murders—monsters that devour the souls of innocents. Sure it’s to sustain themselves but murder is murder and that’s what they’re doing.

But then again, it’s their only choice.

That’s all they know. They haven’t been taught anything else. For all that Aizen praises himself for having returned some semblance of humanity to the soulless creatures that roam Hueco Mundo he hadn’t bothered to teach them how to _be_ human.

He never bothered to instill human manners and beliefs.

Sure they walk like humans and talk like human but they’re not. They’re monsters in human skin; sick vile creatures that walk around in a human suit. Had Aizen made the effort, though, I’m sure that wouldn’t be the case.

Look at the Vizards.

Once healthy, pure souls turned—twisted into something resembling the monster they once hunted. Now they’re nothing more than half-breeds. Wielding the mask and using the power they once sought to destroy and yet the live a peaceful existence.  

I sure the same could have been said about the Espadas if someone had cared enough to try.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Ulquiorra let’s go of me. Once given the chance, I eagerly scramble away from the edge—taking Wonderweiss with me as he doesn't seem to want to let go anytime soon—and don’t stop till I once again find myself standing next to Grimmjow. Grimmjow, who looks at me like I've gone batshit insane for thinking I'm safer next to him.

_That's because I have._

Nothing is said for a long while, though Yammy and Luppi do glance curiously between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra and me for a bit longer than necessary. I don't get why they do it so I just bite my lip as I stand nervously next to Grimmjow, waiting for someone to do something.

"I'll be leaving her in your care," Ulquiorra suddenly says as he turns back to face the front. I don't know who he's talking to and, apparently, neither do the guys as they all share confused looks. Ulquiorra, for his part, walks off without another word.

"Did he mean Grimmjow?" Yammy asks once Ulquiorra finally disappears from sight. Everyone turns to him as one, thinking on it too. "Or did he mean me?"

"No," Luppi says, standing tall and proud as he straightens his outfit. "He obviously meant me. That ex-Espada isn't in the condition to look after anyone after all."

"I'm not looking after _it_ ," Grimmjow growls, completely ignoring Luppi. At this point begin called _'it_ ' no longer offends me so I ignore it with a roll of my eyes. I'm a girl, god dammit. "One of you is."

"Blah!" Wonderweiss babbles and I giggle. I have no idea what he's trying to say but seeing his face scrunched up in ager is _so_ cute. "Nngh wa na!"

"Wait! Don't I get a say in this?" I ask after I realize that if someone is going to have to take care of me it might be better if I choose them. Four pairs of curious eyes turn my way at those words and I shrink in on myself as I realize my mistake.

_These guys are competitive._

"Of course!" Luppi yells as he moves to my side. "You'll choose me, right?"

He throws an arm over my shoulders without another word. Though he doesn't do it gently. It almost has me collapsing and I probably would have if Wonderweiss hadn't ripped him off me while babbling a mile a minute.

"Shut up kid. She won't choose you because you can't protect her."

Tears appear in Wonderweiss' eyes instantly, his lower lip begins to wobble and I can't stop myself. I throw my arms around him. We're about the same height but he curls into my side with a sniffle anyways as I cuddle him close.

"And I thought Ulquiorra was the Asshole," I mumble to myself as I glare at Luppi who glares right back. "I'll take Wonderweiss over any of you, any day."

"You can't choose him!" he yells as he rips Wonderweiss from my grip. He's not that much taller than Wonderweiss but he uses those few inches he has on Wonderweiss to his advantage. He dangles the poor boy by the back of his shirt even as he struggles to get back to my side.

"Leave him alone!" I shout and I would have move towards him if Grimmjow hadn't gripped the back of my shirt to stop me. "Let me go, you—"

"I'm taking them into my care," Grimmjow says as he cuts me off and I look up to him in shock. Hell, everyone does, even Wonderweiss' angry babbling stops.

"You?" Luppi asks, a doubtful tone to his voice as he looks Grimmjow over from head to toe. "What are you going to do with only one arm? You couldn't even protect—"

"Let the kid go."

The tension is thick. There's a glare on Luppi's face and a darker one on Grimmjow's, while Yammy stands back—obviously unwilling to get involved. We're all waiting to see what Luppi will do and if this will mean a fight. While Grimmjow may be arm-less, he's still strong and Luppi's clearly hesitant to see just _how_ strong he is.  

"Fine."

Wonderweiss barely manages to keep his balance as Luppi suddenly lets him go and shoves him forward. He stumbles but I manage to catch him before he can fall and Grimmjow pulls us both behind him not too long after wards.

_Weird...he's protecting us...?_

"We better get going before we miss our chance," Yammy says once the situation has diffused somewhat.

Grimmjow scoffs but grabs my arm and drags me away with Wonderweiss still clinging on to me. We continue on after that in silence, the tension thick around us, but no one moves to break it.

Why did he protect us?

It confuses me. I mean, I understand why he might protect Wonderweiss, the kid is an Arrancar. But that Grimmjow would put himself in harm's way because of _me_ has me wondering just how fucked up my imagination can get _._

Grimmjow wouldn't protect me, I'm a _human_ and Grimmjow hates all things human.

"My mind's version of him is so _'Out of Character'_ ," I mumble to myself as we continue to walk. Yammy and Luppi trail behind us while Grimmjow—"Grimmjow!"

"What no—?"

"Let go, let go, let go!" I yell as I frantically try to remove his hand from my wrist because it's the same. I'm in the same position as before. Right on the edge and this time I don't keep quiet as I struggle against his hold. "Please, please, _please_ let go. Let go!"

"What's wrong with you?" Grimmjow growls, grips still tight on my arm and I yelp as he tugs me forward. Wonderweiss—arms wrapped around my waist—comes with me, making me stumble into the brute as his added weight slams into me.

It's like a domino effect then—a small one but the results are devastating. As Wonderweiss crashes into me, I crash into Grimmjow, who loses his footing and down, down, down we go. It happens so fast that the scream gets stuck in my throat and I cling onto Grimmjow as we fall.

And all too soon we land in a heap. We crash into _something_ with Wonderweiss on top of me and Grimmjow under. He takes the full impact of the crash, really, and the grunt he releases makes me wince. It's also what has me knocking Wonderweiss none to gently off me so I can look the poor brute over.

A long string of curses leaves my mouth as I run my hands over the brute's chest, looking for any injuries.

"Oh thank goodness," I mumble when I find nothing but a fear inspiring scowl on his face. "Keep making that face and it'll get stuck," I tell him distractedly as I look around to see where we've landed once I'm sure he's fine. "Though I don't think you'll really car—Oh! We're here."

Four confused and curious faces stare at Grimmjow and Wonderweiss and I. We're in a big open field and I look up to find Yammy and Luppi staring at us incredulously from the garganta's opening, up in the sky. Well, at least we fell when the garganta opened and not before.

"Are...are you guys okay?"

The voice is feminine—soft, light, confused—and I turned to its owner with a bright smile. Finally! Someone who knows the correct way to act to someone potentially getting injured.

"We're fine, thank you," I tell her, smile still in place as I climb to my feet. I help Wonderweiss to his feet once I regain my balance and even go so far as to dust the kid off as I look him over too. "You're not hurt are you?"

"Nu-huh."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"Quit baby-ing him," Grimmjow growls as he gets to his feet and I shoot him an offend glare as I wrap my arms around Wonderweiss. He, once again, curls into my side so I almost miss the way he sticks his tongue out at Grimmjow. "Why you—!"

"Leave him alone," I scold as I drag him closer into my side.

"But he—"

"Doesn't know any better," I growl out and ignore Grimmjow as he huffs in annoyance but turns back to face the people watching us. "I'm sorry about dropping in so suddenly—literally," I tell the shinigami as I turn to them, because it's them. It's Yumichika and Ikkaku and Rangiku and Hitsugaya. "But I got something I need to talk to you about."

"Uh...us?" Rangiku, the apparent talker of the group asks, confusion written all over her face like the rest of her group as they stare at us. "You want to _talk_ to us?"

"Uh-huh, I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions for me," I tell them as I pull away from Wonderweiss and usher him to stand behind Grimmjow. To safety because what I'm about to do might get me killed and I'd rather he not be in the line of fire. "You see, I'm sure you guys have already realized I'm human and who I'm _"working"_ for—like I had much of a choice with that bastard making all the decisions himself. But that's neither here nor there. Anyways, I'm wondering if you guys know why Aizen's doing this."

"Doing? Doing what? Killing everyone? Trying to take over the world? How are we supposed to know?" Hitsugaya asks, glare on his face. He's pissed, overly so but before he can ask more or go on a full-blown rant, Ikkaku speaks.

"You didn't have a choice? Did Aizen force you to join his army? Did he threaten you? That no good, Son of a—"

"Whoa, okay calm down," I mutter to him when I see him getting angrier with every word. "That's not what I said. He didn't exactly force me but he didn't ask me if I wanted to either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hitsugaya asks, suspicion written all over his face and it's then that I realize I won't be getting an answer from them. They're too preoccupied trying to figure out whether they should attack me or not. "Are you a hostage or are you working for Aizen?"

"Oh, I'm working for him alright," I tell them and make sure to step back a few paces as I see them reaching for their swords. "But it's to further my own plans, not his, so there's really no need to attack me."

"You're the enemy?"

"In a way, yes but, honestly? No," I tell them. They don't understand me, I can tell by the confused look on Ikkaku's and Rangiku's faces. "He has something I want, something incredibly precious to me. Something in danger of being destroyed and until I find a way to insure it's safety I will work for that tyrant."

"Something _precious?_ " Hitsugaya asks, confused by the wording but I nod either way. His eyebrows pull together in confusion as he thinks on it for a bit and, when his gaze darkens, I know he's come to a bad conclusion. "Are you humans really so greedy that simply the promise of material objects can get you to turn on your own kind?"

That is not what I meant _at all!_

"No, you stupid, pointy-haired midget," I snap before I can think about it because this Asshat just insulted me! I'm going to punch him in his scrunched up face! "It's the love of my life. He has the man I love! He has—"

"Enough of this! I came to fight not talk."

Yammy's yell catches me off guard. The tension is thick once again and it seems everyone's just waiting for someone to make the first move. So I completely blame it on him that I end up jumping behind Grimmjow at the sound of it.

"There doesn't need to be a fight," I yell up at him but am ignored as Yammy and Luppi finally exit that garganta. "I was doing a mighty fine job of distracting them already," I mumble to myself and Wonderweiss nods in agreement.

"He's not in this group," Grimmjow suddenly says, pulling my attention to him, and I look at him just as he wraps an arm around my waist and throws me over his shoulder. "The guy that I want to kill isn't here."

"Wait, wait, wait! Ack!"

The world spins as my hair whips harshly around me. The wind roars in my ears but even then I manage to hear Wonderweiss' startled cry as Grimmjow races away with me on his shoulder.

"Put me down!" I yell as I pound on his back, though it only hurts me because Arrancars have extremely tough skin. Like granite and my weak human strength does nothing against it so, after a bit, I give up. "You forgot Wonderweiss, you dumbass!"

"The kid can take care of himself," Grimmjow yells back and I huff in annoyance because he has a point. Aizen might have made him that way but the kid's got enough strength to survive either way.

"Ichigo's been training, you know," I call back to him as I rest my elbows on his back and put my chin in my hands. "With the Vizards. They've been teaching him to keep his mask on for longer periods of time and he's getting pretty good. So do you still think you can take him?"

"I'll kill him."

"No, you won't," I mumble just as we come to a stop. We're in the middle of some random street. It's empty, not a car in sight so I don't bother to move as Grimmjow sets me on my feet. "And, sadly, it won't be him who'll kill you either."

"What do you know?" Grimmjow asks as his hand, big and strong, wraps around my neck. I don't tense or panic or struggle. I just stand there because his grip is loose, limp, a touch more than a grip as he waits for answer.

"Everything," I whisper, eyes locked with his so I seem them wide just the tiniest bit. I keep still even as his grip begins to tighten. "I know about Di Roy, Nakeem, Edrad, Shawlong, Yylfordt—Szayel's brother. How mad...was he...that you...you...got him...k—"

Grimmjow says nothing, shows nothing. His eyes are blank, empty as he cuts off my breathing. This is seriously the most calm kill I've ever seen. No shouting or screaming, no blood or anger. Just a girl slipping away at the hands of a brute.

It's calm, peaceful, so quiet that it doesn't clearly register in mind that this could be the end of me until Grimmjow let's go. Until the air comes rushing back so suddenly that it hurts, that I get so dizzy I collapse onto my knees, coughing all the way.

"The only reason I won't kill you is 'cause it's what Aizen wants," Grimmjow says, winding his hand into my hair and he pulling my head back to look at him. "He doesn't want you to come back to Las Noches. It's why he sent you with us."

"You...You say that like I'm supposed to care," I choke out between my coughs. I meet his gaze head on again and find it as empty and anger free as before. "Like...like if it'll hurt that...that bastard doesn't wants me around."

"Since you were asking about him I thought you might have," he says as he lets me go. "Now get up. We have to find Ichigo before Ulquiorra finishes."

"You won't win," I say as stand on shaky legs. My headache is back stronger than ever and I can't keep myself from stumbling as the world spins. Grimmjow catches me effortlessly, distractedly and helps me find my balance even though his eyes are glued to the sky.

"Seems he found us," he mumbles as his hand goes back to my throat. "No hard feels but I don't want him to think we're friends."

"I understand," I whisper with a shrug and don't fight even though he uses his grip on my neck to lift me up until my feet no longer touch the ground. Man, he's tall. "Wouldn't want him...to think you've gone soft...would we...Kitty Kat."

"Let her go, Grimmjow!"

"I've been looking for you, Shinigami," Grimmjow says as he lets me go and I once again fall to my knees in front of him.

"That's my line," Ichigo says and I turn to find him reaching for his face. He's going to unleash his mask and I can do nothing to stop this fight. Not that I really would have but still. "Let me show you how much I've changed."

"Don't get your ass beat too bad," I whisper up to Grimmjow as I finally pull myself up to my feet. I stumble to the side walk before they can actually start fighting because I don't want to get hit on accident.

"I'm going to kill you next."

"Hmm...What happened to _'I won't kill you because it's what Aizen wants?'_ "

"Fuck Aizen."


	6. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long but it's finally here.

 

“Bankai again?” Grimmjow taunts, cool, calm and collected even though he’s missing one arm. I watch the fighting men wearily from where I sit, ready to duck out of the way at a moment’s notice as they go at it. I’m in no mood to be hit by a strike gone wide. “Did you forget? Your Bankai couldn’t even touch me”

“Oh really,” Ichigo taunts back, equally as calm. “Then who put that scar on your chest?”

I only stop my laugh by sheer force of will, though a few giggles escape. I’m sure I look absolutely insane by this point. At least to anyone who can’t see Grimmjow and Ichigo. Which would be humans. I’m pretty sure that, to them, I’m just a weird girl, dressed in equally weird clothing, sitting on the sidewalk, and staring up towards the clouds like a loon.

“I’ve got just one question before we start, Grimmjow,” Ichigo says, confusion beginning to color his words as he gives Grimmjow an appraising look. “What happened to your arm?”

“I figured I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back,” Grimmjow says, still calm, hand in his pocket, though a smirk soon slithers across his lips. “So I threw it away before I got here but it seems like I should have thrown them both out.”

“Bullshit!” I yell and crackle madly when he throws a glare my way. Ichigo also turns to look at me, one brow quirked. “Tousen cut that shit off because Grimmjow was being a very bad Kitty Kat and launching unapproved attacks.”

“I will kill you slowly,” Grimmjow promises from his spot in the air and I just shrug, shit eating grin firmly planted on my face.

“I won’t go easy on you,” Ichigo says, bring Grimmjow’s attention back to their fight and away from me. His hand goes up then, reaching the top of his head before pulling down just as a wave of black spiritual energy shoots forward.

“What the hell is that?”

The surprise on Grimmjow’s face is genuine and I’m sure Ichigo is smirking behind his mask.

“Sorry,” he says, golden eyes focused on Grimmjow just as he shoots forward “But I don’t have time to explain.”

The fight begins in earnest then and I have no hope of keeping track of them. They move too fast, swinging and dodging and attacking before my eyes can focus on them. Ceros and blasts of spiritual energy block them from view more often than not as they fight.

It’s only as a particularly strong one swallows Grimmjow up that they pause. Ichigo stops attacking as he waits for the blast to clearly up and to see if his opponent is even still alive. Grimmjow emerges from it still standing.

Though, extremely worse for wear in my opinion.

“This…power,” he chokes out in between the pants tumbling form his lips. Blood flows down in streams from various open cuts but he’s still got a harsh grip on his Zanpakuto. He’s still willing to fight. “Is not a Shinigami’s power…you bastard…Just what the fuck were you doing this path month?”

“I told you,” Ichigo says as he launches into another attack. He holds nothing back as he sends a wave of spiritual pressure Grimmjow’s way, distracting him long enough to move behind him. “I don’t have time to explain.”

They begin to move too fast again. The last thing I can make out is Grimmjow releasing a Cero as he plummets towards the ground. It hits Ichigo dead center, pushing him away enough for Grimmjow to gain some ground back but it’s too late.

Ichigo has him beat…at least until his mask breaks.

The smirk on my face is all cruel and vindictive as I hear Ichigo’s yell of _, ‘My mask?’_

With both of them more or less back on even ground, Grimmjow redoubles his efforts. They clash again and, at some point, the fight moves to the ground.

Ichigo goes skittering past me, smashing harshly against the ground as Grimmjow knocks him down from the sky. Grimmjow, for his part, stands on the ground, once again calm and collected as he watches Ichigo struggle to stand.   

He makes one last ditch effort to release his mask before Grimmjow attacks again but it doesn’t do him any good. The masks breaks almost as soon as he releases it and Grimmjow’s on him before he can figure out why that could be. The sound of Grimmjow’s foot connecting with his stomach is sickening and makes my own stomach clench in sympathy.

“So it seems like that mask can’t be used again once it’s broken, huh?” Grimmjow asks as he towers over Ichigo. “Could it be because you took too much damage? Or because you used too much Reiryoku? Or does it have a limited amount of uses?” Grimmjow asks as he begins to stalk towards him, not that he’s actually expecting an answer. “I have no clue what the reason could be but that’s okay. You see, the point is, at this moment you can’t bring it out.”

Man, he sure likes to talk a lot.

I’m about ready to tune them both out. Knowing how this fight is going to go, I don’t really find it all that interesting, which it’s why I’m the first one to spot her.

She appears quietly. Trying not to draw attention to herself as she attempts to read the situation and come up with the best course of action. She stands a little ways down the street, eyes flicking from Grimmjow to Ichigo before finally landing on me.

The narrow down to slits when she catches me watching her but she does nothing to me. She doesn’t have a chance to attack me. Her attention is drawn back to Grimmjow just as he raises his hand, Cero charging. Ichigo can’t defend himself, his hands are trapped, pinned by Grimmjow’s Zanpakuto, so Rukia intervenes.

“First dance.”

Ice forms around Grimmjow’s hand, cutting off his charging Cero. He starts, pulling his hand up in confusion at the unexpected turn of events until Rukia speaks again.

“The Next Dance,” she says, dropping into a battle stance just as Grimmjow turns towards her. “Hakuren.”

“Uh-oh,” I mumble, scrambling to my feet as Grimmjow’s encased in ice. Right, I forgot about that. For a second I’m worried Rukia will turn her sights on me but she doesn’t spare me a glance. Her full attention is on Ichigo as she races towards him.

“What an awesome power,” Ichigo mumbles as Rukia kneels down next to him. “But when did you…”

“Don’t talk,” Rukia tells him as she begins to work Grimmjow’s Zanpakuto out of the ground so she can free Ichigo’s sleeves. “It’s already going to be hard enough to get you out of here. We don’t have much time to waste with that,” she mumbles eyes turning my way and I shuffle nervously.

She won’t attack me will she?

“Besides, it looks like you’re the one who used an incredible amount of power,” she says, turning back to him and I use her distraction as a way to make my escape. I begin to shuffle backwards, keeping them in my line of sight. “You’re shaking.”

“Shut up,” Ichigo mumbles, pants tumbling from his lips just as I back into something.

“Ichigo—,” Rukia begins but she’s caught off by Grimmjow breaking out from the ice. Not that I see it, I just know that that’s what happens. I only miss it because the thing I backed into pulls my attention from them.

My back is pressed against something warm and hard but with the slightest give. Standing in the middle of someone’s grassy yard, I know it can be nothing else but a person. Carefully, slowly, I turn towards the person who’s stopped my escape and find myself face to face—chest really ‘cause he’s really tall—with Shinji.

“Well, I’m fucked,” I mumble as I find him staring back at me, one eyebrow raised in question and one hand resting on the hilt of his Zanpakuto.

He keeps staring at me, eyes locked with mine even as he stops Grimmjow from killing Rukia with a blast of _something._ I try to back away then, hands going up in a show of surrender but I don’t get far. One hand goes to wrap around my upper arm while the other unsheathes his Zanpakuto.

“I swear, I don’t really like getting’ involved in Shinigami fights,” he drawls, gathering everyone’s attention as he yanks me towards him, spinning me around as he does so that my back is once again connected to his chest. “But when you hear fighting so close by, you just can’t ignore it,” he drawls, raising his Zanpakuto so that it rest lightly against my neck. “Stand down or I’ll kill her.”

My heart pounds against my chest, my throat goes dry, and Grimmjow? Grimmjow laughs. Roars with laughter at Shinji’s demand. So much so that he’s clutching at his stomach as he laughs his head off. It goes on for a long time, winds down only for him to look at me and start all over again. He’s breathless by the end of it.

“Wait…wait,” he chokes out between his laughter, hand still clutching at his stomach. “You…you actually think I care about this runt?” he asks dissolves back into laughter when he realizes that Shinji really does think that. “Go ahead. Kill the bitch,” he says, eyes wide with excitement as he all but bounces in place. “Make my day.”

“You asshole!”

“Hey, you wanted to come along, babe. It’s not my fault you can’t protect yourself,” he says as he slams his Zanpakuto into the ground, once again embedding it into the ground, and leans against it. “Come on already! What are you waiting for?”

“Ulquiorra will be pissed,” I warn him but Grimmjow just laughs again. I squirm in Shinji’s hold at the sound of it. I’m careful not to push against the Zanpakuto but Shinji presses into my skin as a silent threat to keep still. Rukia and Ichigo stare at us in bewildered confusion as the strange turn of events and I’m sure the same look is on Shinji’s face.

“Like I care.”

“Aizen—,”

“Doesn’t give two shits about you either and we both know it,” he drawls as he begins to pick at his nails in boredom. “Look, are you going to kill her or not? I would very much like to get back to this fight before time’s up so if you’re not then move aside and I’ll do it. Fair warning, though, I will be blaming her death on you.”

“Grimmjow!”

“Sorry, babe, but you’ve overstayed your welcome,” he says as he pulls his Zanpakuto from the ground. “Can’t say I’ll miss you and I’m sure I won’t be the only one glad that you’ll be gone,” he mumbles as he stalks towards us.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I plead as I push back into Shinji’s chest in an attempt to get as far away from the deranged Espada as possible. “Think about what you’re about to do there, bud. Tousen already cut off one arm, you wouldn’t want him to cut off the other now, would you.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

I don’t know if he’s serious or not. I don’t get the chance to find out as he disappears from sight, only to reappear behind Shinji and disarm him. Shinji’s Zanpakuto goes flying, knocked out of his hand by a move too fast for me to see.

I’m no too sure what happens next, either.

One second I’m in Shinji’s arms and, the next, I’m on the floor. Knocked to the side and away from harm as two Cero’s collide. The resulting explosion shakes the ground, rocks me back and forth as I curl into a ball to avoid serious damage.  

I don’t uncurl until the ground stops shaking, until I’m completely positive the last of the Ceros are gone. Though, when I do, the scene I find is unsettling, confusing, throws everything off kilter because Grimmjow’s standing in front of me. Battered and bleeding more than before, he stands between the Shinigami and me.

“Shit,” he curses, blood dripping from his mouth and splashing on the ground as he leans forward. He’s standing on his last leg, so close to being brought down but he doesn’t let him stop him. Even half dead he keeps going. “Damn it…”

“You minimized the damage by hitting my Cero with your own,” Shinji says, mask in place as he gives Grimmjow an appraising look. “Not bad.”

“Fuck you,” Grimmjow coughs out through blood stained lips. Shinji regards him, then with something akin to pity. He’s no doubt already thought of just exactly how he’s going to deliver the final blow. But Grimmjow, never one to give up even when things look bleak, isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of killing him. “Grind—”

Ulquiorra makes his appearance then.

“Ulqui…Ulquiorra!”

Right on time and it makes me wonder if, perhaps, he hadn’t been watching us for some time.

“Mission accomplished,” he says, gaze lazily taking in the battlefield before landing on me. I’m still on the floor, battered and bruised but, thankfully still alive. He holds his hand out to me, then, beckoning me forward while he keeps Grimmjow from releasing his Zanpakuto. I get to my feet carefully, but quickly, and move to his side before he can say, “Negación.”

A bright, golden light engulfs us. Protecting us from any attacks as it lifts us up and towards the opening Garganta.

“There’s some traces of you Reiatsu,” Ulquiorra says now that we’re safe from harm. He takes his hand off Grimmjow then and lets the other one drop. Slowly, calmly, he puts them both in his pockets. “It seems that you’ve acquired a new power but is that the extent of it?”

Ichigo glares up at us with those words and I shuffle carefully behind Ulquiorra. Not that they can attack us, of course, but I’m feeling weary after the day I’ve had.

“It’s all over,” Ulquiorra says as we finally reach the Garganta and he ushers us into it. “You no longer have a chance. The sun has already set in our hands.”

With those last words the Garganta closes, shutting us away from the Shinigami and I heave a relieved breath. That, that was seriously too close for comfort and it’s left me shaken. So much so that I lean forward, hands on my knees, and desperately try to ground myself.

Being held hostage is not a fun experience.

Especially when your partners rooting for them to kill you.

“You bastard,” I gasp, one hand coming up to lie on my chest. My heart beats a fast tempo under it and I take long, deep breathes in the hopes of evening it out. “You were going to let them kill me?”

“ _Tsk,”_ he scoffs, wiping his hand across his lips in an attempt to get rid of the blood smearing it. “If he was going to kill you he would have done it before I’d even realized he was there. Hollows care for no one but themselves, anyone familiar with us knows that. He knew using you as bait would have gotten him nowhere.”

“Then why did he do it?” I ask, incredulous as I look up at him. He gives me a long look as he takes what remains of his top and uses it to clean the blood off his face.

“So he wouldn’t _have_ to kill you,” he says, extremely nonchalant for him, as he tosses his top to the side. He walks forward without another word, striding by an emotionless Ulquiorra before he can being to ask his own questions.

Our walk back to Hueco Mundo is quiet then. No one’s in the mood to talk or interact with each other. We just go quietly, Grimmjow leaving a slight trail of blood and Ulquiorra not looking the least bit concern about it.

Me? Well, I struggle to understand Grimmjow’s actions as I stare after him. Was it my imagination or did he save me?

No.

He couldn’t have, could he?

He said he wanted me dead, promised to kill me himself, and even urged Shinji on when the man had a Zanpakuto to my throat. So who tossed me aside? Who knocked me down and away from the colliding ceros?

Hell, had Grimmjow ending up between us simply been a coincident?

I don’t get to find out.

We arrive back in Las Noches before I can find the answer to all my questions. The Garganta opens up right in the middle of the planning room. We aren’t the only ones to arrive, either. The rest of our team spills out of another Garganta at the same time, all a little worse for wear.

But no one looks as bad as Luppi.

Not even Grimmjow does. Though that could because most of his wounds are superficial. They’re cuts and scarps while Luppi’s obviously go deeper. He staggers into the room reaching, around blindly so he won’t fall to a heap in the floor.

He only just manages to catch himself on the white table to keep that from being a very real possibility.

“All those in need of medical attention are to seek it,” Ulquiorra says while giving Luppi a blank stare. It would have been one full of pity if he weren’t so emotionless. “I will inform Lord Aizen of our success,” he says, moving to exit the room. “Trixy, come.”

_Am I a dog?_

I follow after him obediently even though my knees threaten to buckle. It’s been a long, adrenaline filled, pain laden day but I manage to keep on my feet as we make our way towards Aizen. I can fill the tremors building in my limbs as we go. I’m not used to this, having my life threatened and being expected to pretend like nothing happened.

Sure, I had been all calm, cool, and collected when it happened been Grimmjow doing it but…actually I don’t know why exactly that had been. Still, having Grimmjow threaten to kill me just seemed different than when Shinji did it.

He hadn’t used a weapon, hadn’t promise me any pain, just death.

Sweet, blissful death while Shinji had promised to slit my throat. To have me choke on my own blood while I struggled to breathe. Somehow, that has me more traumatized then Grimmjow’s attempt on my life. Even though, honestly, they’d both promised to end me where I stood.

“You’ve returned,” Aizen says, eyeing us as we move to stand before him. He sits on his throne, looking bored as can be as he regards us with disinterest. “Was your mission as success?”

“Orihime Inoue should be here be nightfall,” Ulquiorra tells him and Aizen nods, pleased.

“Excellent,” he mutters almost distractedly as his eyes stay locked on me. On my neck for that matter and I curse the fact that I can’t pull the zipper on this damn top all the way up. He’s no doubt eyeing the bruises there. He says nothing about them though. Just waves us off and goes back to what had been doing before we’d interrupted him.

We exit the room just as quietly as when we entered it. I don’t know what the plan is now. I have no idea what Ulquiorra expects of me so I just follow after him silently, feet beginning to drag bit by bit. Sure, I’d only woken up a few hours ago but it’s been a long day already.

“Stay here,” Ulquiorra says suddenly, bring me out of my blank staring as he stops before an unmarked door. “I have things to tend to so you will stay here and await my return,” he orders as he opens the door and ushers me into his room.

At least I think it’s his room since it looks exactly the same as the one I woke up in. I don’t bother to ask though, or to tag along. I simply nod my head and dive into the bed before he can change his mind.

I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.


End file.
